


In This Moment

by Glowstick_Writes



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Anxiety Attacks, Boys In Love, Comfort, Established Relationship, M/M, Makkachin is Dead, Mental Illness, Victor Comforts Yuuri, aaaaaaaaaa, yuuri lives in russia
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-13
Updated: 2017-02-13
Packaged: 2018-09-24 00:53:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,200
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9692426
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Glowstick_Writes/pseuds/Glowstick_Writes
Summary: Yuuri can't stand the mess in his head. And what do you do with a mess? You clean it up.





	

Yuuri never quite understood what brought Victor to Japan. He wracked his mind in search of answers he could never find. Whenever he came up with a new theory there was always something that didn’t fit right. There was always something, no matter how small it might have seemed, it was there and it was enough to bother Yuuri. His mind felt so unorganized, it felt so cluttered and messy. Yuri sighed and looked at his hand, the gold band on his ring finger sending him a casual reminder of that night in Barcelona.

 

_“Victor.. After the final, let’s end this.”_

_“Huh?”_

_“I’m holding you back, aren’t I? You gave up your career.”_

_“Yuuri, that’s not—“_

_“I saw the way you looked at the other skaters. You miss it, don’t you?”_

 

_There was a brief pause and Yuuri looked down at the floor, shocked when he saw a few tears falling from Victor’s eyes._

 

_“Oh. You’re crying.”_

 

Thinking about it stressed him out, he hated the mess it made in his mind. What do you do when there’s a mess? You clean. It was this poor attempt at coping with his confusing emotional state that brought Yuuri to the kitchen, aggressively scrubbing the already clean plates, and beginning to scratch off the painted designs on the clay. He scrubbed with an anger usually attributed to Yurio, frustrated with himself for not being able to figure out **_why. Why_** _Victor was here._ ** _Why_** _Victor stayed with him._ ** _Why_** _Victor brought him to St. Petersburg._ Yuuri _knew_ that Victor loved him, and Yuuri _knew_ that he loved Victor, “So **_why_** is it so goddamn complicated?!” Yuuri scrubbed harder, frustration driving his movements. The only thing that dared interrupt his fit of anger and cleanliness was the sound of a door swinging open and the “Honey, I’m home!” that came with it.

 

_Great._

 

The noise startled him, and Yuuri let out a nervous yelp as he stumbled back, dropping the fragile plate onto the tile floor. It broke all around him, and he let out a groan of pain when he fell back against the counter in a poor attempt at avoiding the shards. He grabbed at whatever was on the counter, just trying to keep himself standing and unknowingly knocked over some silverware, kitchen knives, and a glass that rolled off of the counter and joined the shattered mess on the floor.

 

If Yuuri’s fearful exclamation when Victor opened the door wasn’t enough to get his attention, the disaster in the kitchen certainly was. He dashed out of the doorway and into the kitchen, almost stepping on some of the glass shards that seemed to cover the floor all around his sweet Yuuri. His sweet, poor Yuuri.

 

“Yuuri? What happened here?”

 

Yuuri looked up at his fiancé, confused,wondering why he wasn’t upset with the mess. Anyone else would’ve been, but those beautiful blue eyes showed nothing but concern and love for the Japanese man.

 

“I.. Vitya..” Yuuri’s voice cracked a little and, suddenly, it was too much. Hot, wet tears began to fall from his eyes as he reached out for Victor, climbing over the glass that surrounded him. It bit into his skin as he crawled over to his loving fiancé, but Yuuri didn’t care. He just needed the comfort that Victor’s touch brought to him. All it took was one look from Victor, one look from those gentle eyes, and Yuuri began to fall apart in his fiancé’s arms. Victor understood immediately— _of course he did_ —Yuuri reminded himself. _He loves you, and you love him._ The thought only made him cry harder, his tears soaking the front of Victor’s shirt, but his lover offered no complaints, only true, pure love as he ran his fingers through the messy dark hair nestled under his chin, warm breath ghosting over his own hands occasionally when Victor brought his hands up to run them through his fiancé's hair again. It was nice, almost. If not for the glass shards all over his floor, but Victor paid it no mind. His only concern right then was helping Yuuri, the man he loved. Only when Yuuri’s sobs began to slow down, getting quieter and quieter, did Victor dare pull Yuuri up to face him. Victor pulled his right hand away from Yuuri’s hair, deciding to cup his cheek and press a shaky kiss to the corner of his lips. It was quick, meant to be a reminder of his love for Yuuri—even in their darkest times.

 

“You’re not hurt too bad, are you? Should I call the hospital? Victor spoke quietly, his voice loud enough only for Yuuri to hear, even though they knew they were the only ones in the apartment (Makkachin had passed on just a few months earlier—though traces of him still littered the apartment). Yuuri shook his head silently, hoping that the first aid kits they kept in the spacious apartment would suffice for treating the little wounds he had acquired not long ago.

 

“Alright, want to go to the couch and I can patch you up?”

“I can do it myself, Vitya, I don’t mi—“

“Absolutely not, Yuuri. You’re hurt, and I’m capable of basic first aid.”

 

Yuuri let out a small sigh, watching the other man gently lift him off of his lap and into his arms so he could be carried to their sofa.

 

“Stay!” Was the teasing order from Victor as he stretched out on the strangely large couch. And he was alone again. Now, Yuuri knew that Victor would always be there for him—but that’s the problem with anxiety. Just because you know things doesn’t mean you can’t find reasons to doubt them. Yuuri draped his arm over his eyes with a gentle sigh and let the last few silent tears slip out. But, Yuuri’s thoughts were interrupted when he heard a triumphant shout of “Found it!” down the hall and quickly tried to wipe his eyes and hide as much of his distress from Victor as he could. He didn’t know why he did this. He had always been solitary, but he still had a hard time being honest about his troubles to others. Yuuri hated making people worry about him—especially people he loved most. And that meant **Victor**. The Russian man had found a place in Yuuri’s heart years ago, and admiration slowly turned into love. Now, as he lay stretched out on **_their_ ** couch, in **_their_** apartment, with **_his_** fiancé tending to the wounds he got washing **_their_** dishes, this small, small part of him—a part he had always hated—told him to run away. To push Victor away. He knew it would hurt both of them, and Yuuri didn’t want to hurt Victor like that. Never.

 

“Vitya?”

“Yes, my sweet Yuuri?” Victor’s voice echoed off of the walls of Yuuri’s mind, reminding that small, small part, once again, that he didn’t have to do that. He didn’t have to run away. He didn’t have to push Victor away.

 

_I love you.._ Yuuri found himself thinking. _I love you.. I love you.. I love you I love you I love_ “You..”   


“Me?”

 

“Vitya.. **_I love you_**.”


End file.
